


Part 1: Pilot

by Fedora Of Adorableness (TheTimelessChild0)



Series: Restrooms Are For The Wicked [1]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Crack, Embarrassment, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:29:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/Fedora%20Of%20Adorableness
Summary: A new life, a new day, a newbathroom.
Series: Restrooms Are For The Wicked [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874236
Kudos: 14
Collections: WC²





	1. Penthouse

Neal knew June was a smart woman.

When he first saw the guest room he was starstruck. It was the perfect space to start afresh. Old books, historical oddities, a canvas for painting. Although staring at it at that moment only woke memories of planning heists. He shuddered in regret.

“Quite different from your old stomping grounds, I reckon,” she remarked knowingly. 

“Yeah. Fresh air doesn’t have a time limit,” Neal laughed.

Bugsy ran in from the terrace, jumping in excitement at the visitor.

“And that’s Bugsy. You won’t be the animal in this _big house_ ,” June joked.

“Hi Benjamin Siegelbaum,” Caffrey picked him up, and scratched his ears. 

The dog thanked him by licking. “You know your history,” she noted, smiling.

“Only kind you can learn behind _bars_ ,” 

Neal took some time to admire the books on the shelves. 

“Have you read all of them?” he questioned, intrigued.

“Please, I’m not _that_ old. Some of the more... _useful_ ones, sure,” June hinted, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“What, like this one?” Neal smirked, holding open a book with a square compartment in it.

“How did you find it so quickly?” She was impressed.

“It’s got less dust on it than the other books, so clearly you’ve picked it up before. But it’s hidden among books with _more_ dust and not in the numerous open spaces higher up. Because, it’s _meant_ to look dull and rarely opened. Hidden in plain _sight_ ,” 

Neal smacked the ‘book’ shut with one hand and bent down slightly to put it back in its place. When he resumed his stance, he was made aware of his bladder. 

Except, he had no forging clue _where_ the restroom was. And he didn’t exactly fancy asking a woman he’d just met. 

It was his own fault, in a way. The bathroom in the motel was infested with cockroaches, particularly in the corner behind the toilet itself. When he’d tried, he’d seen the little buggy antennae move, and not even closing his eyes convinced his bladder that the little roachie would not shuffle onto his feet.

Neal shuffled his own feet, rubbing his left shoe with his right nervously, clenching his thighs once. 

“Would it be okay if I closed the door? It’s getting kind of cold,” he requested politely, bobbing his knees. 

June smiled endearingly at him. “Of course, Neal. I was thinking of wrapping a blanket around me, now that you mention it,” 

Caffrey had his legs crossed as he leaned out to close the door. He leaned on the door with his legs still crossed; albeit only at the ankle.

“That’s better,” he noted, sighing cautiously.

  
“Shall we go on with the tour? All the suits are back here,” June informed him.

“Absolutely” Neal agreed, mostly out of a vague hope that he would be left alone to _pee_.

“Spare guest room, _should you_ need it..” she hinted with a note of encouragement and precognition fitting for a woman with her _life_ _experience_. 

The walk-in closet featured many more suits, seemingly all Devores, or at the very least similarly expensive brands, bought or won back when they were cheap or free. 

Even more than living there, Neal looked forward to hearing her life stories. 

“Walk in closet, _water closet_ ...you know what, why don’t I go get the spare key, let you get _comfortable_ ,” June winked at him as she left. 

Neal wasn’t sure what that wink was about, mainly because, between common courtesy and _continence_ , both halves of the brain were more than a little preoccupied at this point.

Once he was certain she couldn’t hear him, he wasted no time stepping into the spacious bathroom. If the sigh of relief he did just seconds after _releasing_ was anything to go by..he should’ve probably used the bathroom at the thrift shop..if they had one.

* * * * * * *

June returned to see her new tenant trying on various suits with various hats. Or well, versions of the same type of hat.

“Have you ever heard of the expression ‘ironing one’s shoelaces’?” she asked, leaning on the wall.

“I _think_ that phrase's even older than you,” Neal chuckled. He hoped the conversation wasn’t going where he thought it might.

“It probably is. Probably needs an upgrade; after all, _your_ shoes don’t have any laces,” June remarked. 

Caffrey flushed red.

“That can’t be the only thing that gave me away,” he quipped with a raised eyebrow, brushing off the blue trilby he’d been trying on.

“No. I have grandchildren. I know a potty dance when I see one,” she smiled warmly.

“And I should know to use the bathroom when I come across one,” Neal commented, resigned.

“You didn’t _come across_ the fake book..you’re smart enough to find it that fast, I’m sure you had your reasons,” June assured him. “You could look good in _any_ of these,” she noted, putting the key in his breast pocket.

  
“I pulled off _orange jumpsuits_ for 4 years; that’s not a very high bar to clear anymore,” he muttered.


	2. Punctuality

He’d left a note. And if his second arrest was anything to go by, Peter knew how to read maps.  _ 1.6 miles _ . Still within his radius. 

So, he didn’t know what he’d done to upset him. 

“I said  _ get dressed _ , not do the crossword,” Peter grumbled, checking his watch. 

“Oh, I don’t solve those on the toilet; too much pressure, even for  _ me _ ,” he quipped.

“Not a lot of fiber in croissants,” Burke murmured off-handedly.

“Hmm...maybe I’ll get a bagel at the airport,” Neal agreed.

“Long as you don’t make it a clichè” 

“Ooh, big word,” the con man remarked in mock astonishment.

“You know, like cops and donuts,” he shrugged. 

“Oui oui, Monsieur Javert,” Neal bowed indulgently. 

  
Peter tugged Caffrey’s hat over his eyes. “ _ Watch it _ or I’ll glue it stuck that way,” the Suit growled.


	3. Airport

It was like a strange twist of fate. The second Neal Caffrey switches sides, bodies start dropping. As if his skill alone maintained a moral standard. 

“Hey, where’s Caffrey?” Diana interrupted his wallowing.

“He’s right..” Burke looked.  _ Great. He jinxed it.  _

He was about to check the food court when the man reappeared.

“What’d I miss?” he asked innocently. 

“A dead body,” Diana informed him. 

“ _ Lucky _ you,” Neal deadpanned, wincing. 

“You’re the one who’s lucky I don’t put you back in chains,” Peter scoffed. “This isn’t a field trip, you stay  _ close _ ,” 

“Sounds exactly like a field trip,” he commented. 

“ _ Where _ the hell did you go?” Burke demanded.

  
“Restroom,” Neal pointed behind him. 

  
Peter narrowed his eyes. “I thought you went before we left,” he checked, confused. 

“I’ve been hydrating. It’s a _hot_ _day_ ,” Caffrey held up a bottle.

“Well, next time tell someone. Diana was right there,” 

“And you were right in there. We’re in the same building; why would the Marshals care?” Neal shrugged.

“They don’t, I  _ do _ . Your anklet doesn’t tell me where in a building you are. And this is not a  _ small _ building!” Peter waved around the open space.

“Okay, I see your point. Next time, I will leave a note,” he surrendered, giving his handler a thumbs up. 

“To who.. _how_...I don’t want to know,” the agent griped quietly.


	4. National Archives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You live and you learn..._ From books, the street and street hustlers ; )

Neal walked into the FBI office with Peter. It was even better than he’d imagined. Pure white, big glass door saying ‘White Collar’, comfortably sized but oozing with the power of its authority. Four years ago, he would’ve felt very out of place here. 8 years ago he’d have run from the first badge he saw.

“Well, not art deco; but you could probably put up a few paintings to remedy it,” he quipped. 

“You're thinking of your old office. This; is the home of the people who arrested you. Twice,” Peter reminded him. 

Neal rolled his eyes. That was getting old. _Already_. 

He was shown his desk. His own desk. 

“I get a desk. Mm..at least I can put a bust of someone there, like Shakespeare, Galileo,” he ruminated.

“Don’t go blowing your budget yet. A J.Edgar Hoover bobblehead might be more in your price range,” Burke advised, handing him a water bottle. “It’s a hot day,” he remarked.

Neal glared disapprovingly, but took some small sips when Peter wasn’t looking. 

\---------------------------------

Neal walked slowly through the National Archives, imagining all the history contained within its walls. 

“Keep up, haven’t you already read these?” Peter beckoned. 

“No, you arrested me too early,” he grumbled.

They met the curator in a cozy semi-enclosed section in the middle of the room.

As Neal moved to stand by Peter’s side, as his partner, he stiffened his legs to conserve space. And in so doing, woke up his bladder. 

He put one hand into his pocket and wrapped the other hand around the wrist, pulling attention away from the fact he was squeezing himself.

The curator opened a box and displayed the Spanish Victory Bond. From 1944. _Goya_. Right period, right size, right type of paper..

Except it was a forgery. A really fresh one. If it had been baked sufficiently and dried for longer it might’ve fooled him; for a few _seconds_..

Neal placed the bond on the table and sniffed the gum arabic. As well as squirming a little...

Peter handed the bond to the curator to verify Neal’s claim _against_ its authenticity, at the same time that Neal stood up. He slipped a piece of paper into the right chest pocket of Burke’s jacket, and snuck up one floor to the nearest restroom. 

“Oh, could you remind your friend to be careful with the books up there?!” the curator instructed, hearing the steps of the con-man. 

“What do you mean, he’s right..” Peter turned around and found the space empty. 

He put a hand to his forehead shaking it in frustration. As he slid his hand down his coat, it felt something new in the upper right pocket. It was a slip of paper. 

It read: _Bathroom break- BRB, x Neal_

* * * * * *

Neal entered, looking just as he was seconds before he disappeared, at least according to Peter. _Well, what did he know?_

“Couldn’t wait and tell me _in person_?” Burke commented.

“When you gotta go, you gotta go,” he shrugged. Peter couldn't argue with that. _When Nature Calls..._

“True, but that still doesn’t answer my question,”

“You _and_ a man I’ve never met before in my life? Yeah, no thanks,” Neal raised both eyebrows in emphasis. 

Peter raised one eyebrow subtly. He knew Caffrey was a man of standards, but not that it encompassed that aspect of his life.


	5. Breakfast at Burke's

Neal stomped on his anklet in annoyance. There were only so many times you could blame that racket on a _text message_...

He rang the doorbell, excited to see the inside of the house of the man who caught him. Caffrey assumed the man used his home for his chase at least a few nights over the years. 

The door opened but didn’t reveal the Suit. Instead, it was Mrs Suit. Or rather, Mrs _Burke_. 

“Hi..is Peter not up yet?” he asked politely, admiring the stunning beauty of the woman referred to as ‘Elizabeth’.

“No, sorry, not yet...but he won’t be long I’m sure. You must be Neal Caffrey,” El greeted with a smile. 

Caffrey turned on the charm easily, tipping his hat at her. 

“I gotta say, you look older than in the sketches my husband had of you,” she noted. 

“Well, I have grown a _couple_ of inches in 4 years,” Neal pointed out, shrugging in amusement. 

“Do you wanna come in? I’m not sure you should be this far from home anyway, might as well be as close to your handler as possible,” she advised. 

Neal looked back at the street. It would probably take him more time to get home before Peter notices, than it would take before Peter woke up. He’d rather get the talking-to while sitting in a lovely home. 

“Sure, I’d never miss a chance to find reasons to make fun of him. Does he have an ugly Christmas sweater?” Caffrey grinned.

The house was smaller than he expected of an FBI agent, but the family photos made it look a bit bigger. 

“He _does_ , but he hid them all in the closet,” Mrs Burke provided the bad news.

“Shame,”

They sat down on the sofa. 

“Do you want some tea?” she offered.

“I’d love some,” He hadn’t had breakfast so he was parched.

* * * * * *

They sat down and talked. Elizabeth had found some biscuits as well. She, like her husband, was concerned about how skinny Neal was. Little did she know it was despite several _pastries_ he always had for breakfast, at his luxurious home.

Satchmo interrupted Neal’s story of what he’d done while Peter was chasing him, by barking loudly. 

“That’s Satchmo. Who I’ve already fed, _plenty_ ,” she noted, walking over to scratch his back.

Neal joined her. Patting the dog on the head. The canine immediately tilted his head upward, sniffing his hand and jumping on him, licking him senseless. 

“Come on, Satch, I just washed my face,” he chastised the dog, chuckling nonetheless. 

“Huh. It’s like he recognises a best friend...” El remarked curiously.

Neal began scratching the dog’s belly.

“He seemed pretty focused on my hands..particularly my right hand,” he pondered. “Did you ever have my bonds lying around after you got him?”

“Yeah, while he was a puppy. He tried to eat one of them once,” she laughed. 

“That’s why! My hand smells like the bonds I drew with it, and the bonds smelled like the hand that drew them...she _does_ recognise me. And has already decided she loves how I smell. Why Satchmo, I’m _flattered,_ ” Neal thanked the pup, kissing its forehead. Satchmo responded by lying down, wagging its tail tiredly. 

“At least I have someone to defend me when Peter wakes up,” he noted.

* * *

As soon as his bottom made contact with the seat again, he had to _shift_ to find a more comfortable position. Neal ran his hands along his thighs, realising the problem. 

In his hurry to get there, he hadn’t gone to the bathroom beforehand. 

And as anyone who’s ever slept in can attest to, the bladder prefers to hold through the night and _little_ of the morning...

“Do you want some more tea?” Elizabeth offered, getting up.

“Er, no thanks, it already soothed me to my _utmost_ satisfaction,” he turned it down politely. 

While she washed the pot, Neal squirmed some more. 

Peter was upstairs. _Where_ , he didn’t know. But he didn’t want to be caught at his friend’s house while about to enter the bathroom, which he sorely needed at this point. 

When El returned he tilted his legs sideways, letting one lean on the other, _tightly_ joined together. 

Mrs Burke proceeded to tell the story of meeting her husband. It involved an art heist, an interrogation and a big cardboard sign. Neal let his hands rest on his lap, using them to hide intermittent tension when he squeezed his thighs even tighter together.

Caffrey suddenly heard the shower running. _Of course_ . Not only did he arrive early, he arrived with a full bladder before Burke had enjoyed his daily sequence of loud water _pouring_ over him... 

El noticed her guest’s eyes flickering upstairs again. At first, she figured he was nervous, and not entirely unwarranted either. She’d built a home with the firebrand who locked him up.

But then, he changed positions. Now, she understood why he didn’t want more tea. He needed to clear out the _first_ few cups...

Caffrey thought he was hiding it reasonably well. Maybe he’d forgotten to iron his suit trousers and they were wrinkly and thus uncomfortable. _Okay_ , not the best explanation, but his host didn’t seem too suspicious. Unlike her husband.

Or so he thought. “He won’t be long,” she assured him, stroking his arm. 

“Hm?” 

“The bathroom will be _all yours_ in a minute. I’ve always said he showers too quickly. Guess it has a benefit this time,” El smirked, knowingly. 

Neal looked down, scratching the back of his head shyly.

“Just hypothetically; would you have believed me if I’d said it was just my wrinkly suit being uncomfortable?” he checked. 

“No,” she disproved warmly.

“Good to know if I ever have to lie to someone _else_ ,” Caffrey added.

“The squeezing could be the couch. You have long _legs_...the shifting, however,” El pointed out. 

He blushed slightly, embarrassed at his discovery of how _obvious_ he turned out to be.

They heard Peter shuffle off into his bedroom, leaving the door ajar. Enough to block the sound of him walking upstairs. 

“And that’s my cue, I’ll just be a minute,” he excused himself. 

“Leave the seat down after you’re done,” she requested. 

“ _Of course_ ,” Neal replied easily. 

The bathroom was slightly brighter than the one at June’s, which he appreciated. His bladder appreciated the toilet as much as any other. _Soothing,_ like the tea.

Burke at first _ignored_ the rustling, calling out to El, who kept her mouth shut to preserve the privacy of her guest. 

But then he got a call saying Caffrey’s anklet activated.

  
  


* * * * * * * *

  
  


“Hon, sorry I’m taking off early, Neal’s outside his..” he was interrupted by his wife’s frantic gesturing to stop speaking. 

“Radius,” Peter finished, moving the phone off his ear. He mouthed _what?_

The question was immediately answered by the sound of a toilet flushing. 

He waved his hand, unsurprised. _Of course._ Where else would Caffrey be in _his_ house? The _bathroom_. 

“At least he didn’t run far,” he murmured, resigned. 

Neal stepped out from the bathroom and only made it down a few steps before spotting Peter. 

He stood still, letting his handler decide how angry to get. 

“You put the seat down?” Burke checked. 

Neal nodded. 

“Good, then you can sit back down and explain to me what was going through your head when you _ran_ to my house this morning!” he complained.

“Technically I took a cab,” Caffrey corrected. 

Burke made a ‘zip it’ gesture. 

“I know who the Dutchman is. Curtis Hagen” he explained. 

“And who is that?” Peter’s anger was replaced by curiosity. He wanted to know who got his consultant so riled up, he forgot to _pee_ this morning..

Hagen’s trade was Goya restorations. And supposedly, there was a signature on the bonds matching his. 

“The bonds I made, I _signed,_ ” Neal argued.

Peter raised an eyebrow in surprise. Then he saw the dog lick his hand. 

He recalled the evidence tampering by the puppy version of his pet. The pooch seemed ‘interested’ in the part of the bond where the security strip was. If they hadn’t stopped him, he’d probably have licked the signature. 

“You practiced forging my signature last night, didn’t you?” he asked, folding his arms to warn against lying. 

“ _Possibly_. Why?” Neal counters innocently. 

“Just a hunch,” Peter looked at Satchmo licking his hand.

  
“ _Yes_ , it’s the same ink, can we get back to the case, please?” Caffrey rolled his eyes. There was a statute of limitations, and as long as he never signed anything other than random parchment at his house, he couldn’t be charged with forging, only _copying_. He was allowed his hobbies...


	6. At The End Of The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal gets relief, Peter gets closure.

While Peter looked up cases attributed to the Dutchman and scoured the files for links to the man they me in the church; Curtis Hagen, Neal wrote his report about forging Goyas. 

He was glad that they hadn’t asked him to compare it to forging other bonds like the _Atlantic_ _Inc_. ones, or they might have discovered more bonds they could’ve charged him with counterfeiting.

He was also glad that Jones and Diana were recruited to help their boss upstairs, so he had no audience during his creative process. Well, that  _ and  _ he needed to use the restroom, and preferred to sneak away with a modicum of dignity and  _ discretion.  _

As soon as he knew Peter’s view of him was obstructed, he got up and casually strolled off to the bathroom.

* * *

Burke had his hands on his sides when Caffrey returned. 

“Why is it every time I turn my back, you’re gone?” he whined. 

“I’m only  _ human _ , Peter,” Neal pointed out smiling.

Burke nodded, accepting. 

“Your antics have made me exceptionally aware of that fact, and thus I know you haven’t  _ gone _ nearly enough for this to be a coincidence,” he raised a dubious eyebrow.

Neal rolled his eyes, getting back in his chair. His eyes challenged the agent to prove it. Prove  _ something.  _

“You didn’t tell Diana...because you didn’t  _ want  _ her to know,” Peter realised.

Neal smiled sheepishly. He shook his head awkwardly, eyebrows scrunched up in revulsion at the prospect. 

“And you left a note for me as soon as  _ I _ requested to be  _ kept informed _ ,” 

Caffrey nodded as if to say  _ you’re welcome. _

“You weren’t avoiding me, you were avoiding Jones and Diana,” Peter understood. 

“Also, you were  _ staring,  _ so in that aspect, I  _ was _ avoiding you,” Neal explained. 

The pieces fell into place. His consultant’s behaviour wasn’t all that odd after all. He knew he was a man of grace and _propriety_ , and had been in prison for 4 years with next to no privacy in this department. 

“Yeah...you’ve had plenty of that in prison, I guess. Old habits die hard, I get it. You’ll get used to this soon enough,” Burke patted his consultant’s desk. 

“Well if it’s one thing prison taught me, it’s  _ patience _ ,” Neal warned. 

“That...is an outrageous understatement,” Peter pointed out, humorously. 

The con man blasted a finger gun at him with his right hand, fondly.


End file.
